


A Slice of Life

by neverminetohold



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Language, M/M, Post-Series, Slash, Survival Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-04 02:18:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4122342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverminetohold/pseuds/neverminetohold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barely any food and water left. And then they find a goddamn pool...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Slice of Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sasha_b](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasha_b/gifts).



Scavengers had already been through the town, leaving behind nothing but scraps.  
  
The hollow husks of white-picket-fence lives lined the main street. Their colors, ranging from yellow to Scandinavian red, had faded. Doors hung loose from their hinges or had been busted open with an ax. One wall was riddled with bullet holes all the way, corner to dying apple tree. The windows were empty, except for billowing curtains, more tatters like, and gleaming shards of glass. The asphalt was cracked, melted in summer and frozen during winter, with weeds and grass poking through.  
  
Only thing moving, so far, was garbage. The hot wind rustled old newspapers and played soccer with rusted cans. Three years and bang! Civilization was over and done with, had evaporated like gasoline.  
  
Daryl kept to the shadows as much as possible with the sun high up and burning on his back and neck like a bitch. He was caked with dirt and half convinced that reincarnation was a thing, 'cause a guy who'd spent the better part of his life outside shouldn't be able to turn lobster scarlet. - Using aspen and chickweed oil as sun screen hadn't worked half as well as it ought. Couldn't even rely no more on Mother Nature.  
  
His plastic bag was still near empty. Nothing much worth picking up, and he had checked the whole area. More sweat ran down his temple, stinging his eyes. Shirt dark, he stank like a randy possum.  
  
Time to go back to their temporary base. That place, at least in theory, had come with a perk. Well, that and a ton of booby traps a batshit crazy hermit had set up. Nearly blown Rick to bits. Not the kind of scare Daryl liked to deal with first thing in the morning.  
  
Less he had to lose, the more clingy he got. Willing to fight tooth and nail for it. Feeling was mutual, though. That made it almost more sweet than bitter, enough so to keep them going.  
  
Just as Daryl was about to call it quits, climb back over the wall and through the torn chain-link fence to retrace his steps, something growled up ahead. He froze, hand close to the knife at his belt. It was a walker all right.  
  
Someone had tinkered about, made a wind chime out of a bunch of CDs. They dangled from a hook and the dazzling rays of light had drawn a geek up onto the house's porch. Ugly fucker. Its face was half torn away, skin a swollen red with dark veins. Bone-white shone through the rags of what had been a skimpy party dress, them and ropes of guts, with big fat flies swarming all around her.  
  
She snapped her rotten teeth at the discs, too distracted to notice him or anything else. For a time. Daryl snorted and left. No arrows to waste, and he was too fucking hot and tired to get up close and personal with that bitch.  
  
XXX  
  
He slipped past the third barricade of overthrown lockers, cleaning utensils and benches. Inside it didn't smell like chlorine, just a little mold and dusty old corpses, but then Rick had reminded him that the stuff originally didn't smell like anything. The piss in the water did.  
  
"Still can't believe we found a fucking pool," Daryl muttered to himself as he stalked with careful steps around their last trap.  
  
Couldn't ever be too sure that a hideout was safe just 'cause it was cleared of walkers. Only people left standing were like them: survivors.  
  
"But we did." The familiar sound of Rick's hoarse voice and a safety catch clicked right into Daryl's ear. "Welcome back."  
  
Rick peeled away from the wall, stepping out of the deep shadows and into the sparse light that came in through the paint-smeared windows. Ever since a bomb had exploded too close for comfort, Daryl's hearing had taken a turn for the worse. Someone sneaking up on his left, without him spotting them, and he was dead meat. - But this was Rick Grimes, the one exception to near all well-rehearsed Dixon rules, so Daryl wasn't as bothered being caught off guard as he ought.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Daryl dove in for a quick kiss. Nothing special, swapping of spit and clash of chapped lips, sucking on them before he pulled away. Just a taste to check that they were both still alive and kicking.  
  
Rick grinned. Faint, just a twitch at the corner of his mouth, that lay half-hidden in the rat's nest he called a beard these days, but it was there. And so much better than that lost thousand-yard stare or the seething fury after what had happened to Lori and the baby. To Carl, and the group. One by one, gone.  
  
"Any luck?"  
  
"Nah." Daryl upended the plastic bag and all that came tumbling out was a sorry match-box that rattled when it hit the tiled floor. "You?"  
  
Not much of a talker anymore, Rick gestured towards their little campsite. Two sleeping bags rolled out in close quarters, weapons, supplies, the remains of a fire, fenced in by a few more benches. Wouldn't do nothing to keep back humans, but walkers would at least trip and wake them up - not that either threat stood a chance to get past their security measures without all hell breaking loose way in advance.  
  
Daryl spotted a few dented cans stacked up neatly besides filled water bottles. Judging by the labels, peaches, beans, and corn. Real feast for the starving. Should check the snares tomorrow, catch a rat or three. Feral dog wouldn't be bad either.  
  
"Nice."  
  
"Went down again too."  
  
"And?"  
  
'Down' meant into the cellar, a labyrinth of pipes and pumps, tanks with disinfectants - mostly bromine - and mechanical filters. Everything had been rigged up to a generator and even some solar panels up on the roof. Seemed like the crazy hermit had loved a good swim before he decided pushing daisies was nicer still and blew his brains out.  
  
"Well, I wouldn't drink it, but using it to clean up a bit?" Rick shrugged. "Shouldn't be a problem."  
  
Daryl turned to give the pool the hairy eyeball of blatant skepticism. The whole thing was trying to emulate a tropical paradise, with lots of fake plastic palm trees and orchids, turned off waterfalls and even a little grotto swimmers had to dive into. The water level had dropped, and three years ago no one remotely sane would have considered using that soup for anything other than flushing the toilet.  
  
It looked clean enough, though. A little more green than blue or clear, and it smelled chemical up close, but there wasn't any dirt or algae big enough to spot in the stuffy twilight. Hell, it was wet and Daryl figured that he wouldn't feel a rash on top of his sunburn anyway.  
  
Rick had already moved towards the ladder and pulled his shirt over his head. Daryl watched him undress, counted the scars of close calls. No fat reserves, just lean muscles and tanned skin. Too thin, body eating itself up.  
  
Damn near the most beautiful sight left in this crapsack world that was out to get them killed - or worse. Merle would have called him a princess. Officer Friendly's bitch. Laughed his ass off. The thought of him was nostalgic, like a scabbed over wound not worth picking at. Daryl was done searching for a place to fit into, all insecure and desperate to earn and keep it. He had one. 'Sides, he had realized that people couldn't do it alone ever since what went down after Atlanta.  
  
Daryl snorted softly and got rid of his own clothes. Had to near peel them off, fabric sticking to his skin. The sound of his zipper was swallowed by the gentle splash as Rick pushed away from the ladder. Standing, the water lapped up no further than his navel.  
  
Daryl joined him, pleasantly surprised that the soup was lukewarm. Enough of a difference to the dry summer air outside to feel almost cool and he went under without hesitation, giving his lank hair a good rinse.  
  
"Not bad," he mumbled with a groan, toes curling on the slippery tiles. "At all."  
  
He could almost feel bunched up muscles loosen and the grime in his pores getting a much needed soak. Daryl looked down and wasn't surprised at all to find himself standing in a ring of dirt particles that slowly sank beneath the water's surface or drifted off. Didn't feel like moving at all for a few long-drawn-out minutes.  
  
Daryl sighed, head hanging low, near crossing his eyes watching droplets slide down the length of his own nose. "Needed that."  
  
"Yeah," Rick agreed, leaning over the pool edge to fish for a piece of fabric. "Come here."  
  
Daryl went, allowing himself to be sluiced down with the makeshift washcloth. Rick's calloused hands were firm and gentle, scrubbing at dark stains left by dried blood and dust at first, then giving him a massage. Mostly just touching, once or twice checking pinpricks of pain, tiny wounds, a cut from squeezing through the fence.  
  
No bites, no scratches. No need to use the only two bullets they had left.  
  
Daryl enjoyed the attention, humming tunelessly, dick half-hard but in that content and exhausted way that didn't feel urgent at all. Long past the age of horny teenagers, both of them. Maybe he would fuck Rick after they had eaten, or the other way around.  
  
Noting the change in light, sun setting outside, Daryl snatched the drifting washcloth out of the water. "Your turn."  
  
XXX  
  
His stomach clenched painfully, but Daryl continued eating his fair share of corn, beans, and halved peaches. He chewed and swallowed, and tried not to grimace at the too sugary taste. Soon, cans they found would be worth shit. And what then?  
  
Fork half-way to his mouth he paused and listened. There was a noise, a hollow tapping. Something moved on the other side of the fully blacked-out lower windows. Nails scratched over glass, producing a sound that shivered up and down his spine.  
  
"It's just one," Rick said, setting down his water bottle. He hadn't bothered to even look. "Can't get in."  
  
He was right. An adult wouldn't fit through, no matter whether they still cared for shaving off their own flesh or not. Going outside to deal with it, a single stray, would have been stupid. Daryl knew that, but he pulled his crossbow closer all the same.  
  
"I'll take first watch."  
  
Rick gave him that look, the one he must have perfected inside an interrogation room, playing bad cop. Must have been extra scary, coming from Mr. Goody Two-Shoes, who rescued kittens out of trees and helped old ladies cross the street.  
  
"You need to sleep just as much as I do."  
  
Daryl scowled, mostly 'cause that was better than yawning. "No kidding."  
  
"It's as secure as it gets."  
  
"Which means shit," Daryl shot back, not thinking of the farm, the prison, too many graves they had never gotten around to dig.  
  
But Rick wasn't playing fair, wasn't asking or offering. He just doused the tiny fire they had going and went for his sleeping bag. And Daryl could do nothing but follow, his wrist gripped tight and dragged along. Well, he wasn't exactly putting up a fight.  
  
They ended up in a tangle of limbs, a giant cotton and nylon caterpillar, two sweating guys trying to fit into the space meant for one. Daryl got his ribs bruised by an elbow and nearly rammed his knee straight into Rick's nuts before their bodies settled into an awkwardly arranged truce.  
  
It was too hot for that kind of crap, too close in a way that meant breathing each other's air. He could hear Rick's heart beating, right underneath his ear, till he fell asleep.  
  
One day the glass would break. Must, since they were the walking dead. Until then, this was life, as perfect as it got.


End file.
